


Tranquilo

by scy



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scy/pseuds/scy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam wants to try another way of living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquilo

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation with the_grynne

He walked into the desert a man of substance, full of rage and wounded deeply. The unrelenting sun peeled away all excuses and when Adam awoke, skin healed and found that there was now a well inside him that he could put to better use than a sip of water . Silence, he could carry, that realization how nothing could touch him that he didn't want to. He was aware of how people responded to a man with a sword in his hand, but there were other ways to influence, and not all of them overtly threatening.

When his feet left the sand, Adam uncovered his face but didn't exclaim in relief at breathing the heavy ocean air. He found a ledge that extended out onto the tide line and sat there, watching as travelers and merchants crossed paths, the mix of languages surging like the water as deals were made and compromises reached.

Though he was still wearing the garb of one who knew how to cross the dunes, his face was fair, tanned gold, hair white-blonde, and he was nothing like the other men on the shore. Suspicion was reason enough to approach him, and greed brought others. They asked him where he'd come from, where he was going, and whether he had anything worth trading.

Each question came tumbling over the last, in languages he had never heard, and Adam met each of them the same way, hands spread to present the lack of valuables and words to sell them with. When he was left alone, wind picking up, Adam tugged his robes more securely around himself. He sat on the beach until sunset, and then began trudging toward the small village that rested on the coast. Just as he was about to depart the beach, one of the men who had spoken to him earlier, motioned for Adam to join them at their fire. That Adam didn't use his voice didn't matter, the man insisted, in his own language and with hands and expression that it was right and good to share food and the warmth of the fire with a stranger who was on his own.

Adam thanked the man with a nod, and followed him to the circle of traders. He accepted a dish of cooked meat, the grease nearly scalding his fingers as he tore pieces off and chewed them slowly. Around him, men talked, and laughed, none of them paying Adam more attention than one of their pack mules, speaking freely in a common language that they didn't expect Adam to reply in. Their speech was uncensored, he was nobody to them, and more than that, they believed no mute could tell tales.

That night was spent comfortably, and in the morning, Adam set out again, carrying provisions and wondering what other doors a man without a voice could open.


End file.
